Maybe you have a 'Sam', too
by Miracle B
Summary: Charlie is a wallflower. He thinks too much and speaks too little. One shot/series of. Minor sexual references used. M for safety.


_Dated 3rd July 1993_

Dear friend,

I don't want to disappoint you but the only thing I have on my mind is Sam and I think that's a bad thing. I don't want to think of her like that because we are friends and we are just that. Besides, Sam is beautiful inside and out. She really is and I don't think I should say that because she wanted me to not think of her in that way. I never thought I'd feel like this for anybody and especially not for so long, seeing as she's been in my life for years and years now and I shouldn't be thinking about her like this anyway.

I've seen happy families though I'm not completely sure whether the families are just pretend or make each other so happy that they can't stop smiling or spending time together or sharing moments that you don't really notice, like last Christmas when Sam and Patrick came to my house for dinner and we all really got on and my sister didn't complain about the overcooked Turkey and my brother didn't insist on eating his dinner in his room and my mom didn't drink too much wine and my dad didn't raise his voice. I don't think my family has ever been like that. My sister always bragged too much and my brother always spoke too much and my dad always shouted too much and my mom never spoke enough. I always wonder if we are the odd ones, if the 'happy families' acted out on TV are what happens behind every four walls that I walk past. Like when we were watching M*A*S*H and dad and I shared that moment and how he still pats me on the head and calls me his 'champ' like he did that day (I won't get too into it: I already have and wouldn't want to bore you all over again, even if they do say that you're a good listener and didn't sleep with that person at the party, even if you wanted to. I think that shows you're good person but, then again, I'm only young so I could be misunderstanding.)

When I walk past each individual row of houses, I always wonder what is going on in their lives. I turn my head every time I walk past a slightly interesting looking house and wonder what made them move there and if they had been there long or if they had inherited the house. I see the rolls of netting falling down each bay window. They're all different: some are flowered with roses on while some are more modern looking. I could be being completely stereotypical, but I can't help thinking that the roses possibly belong to my elders. But I also think that the modern looking lace that falls down their bay windows on this sunny day in June is the only thing that is truly keeping their lives private.

I've seen houses that don't have lace or curtains and I think that they're probably the most outgoing and open. I only think this because they're willing to open their lives to everybody who walks past and every noisy kindergartener that points at their furniture through the clear window and every nosey mother that seems to peer into each living room that they pass and evaluate the wealthiest and, especially if they're new to the area, if they deserve to live in such a 'prized' area. My mom always says that and I'm not sure if she means that we're close knit or if she simply doesn't want our avenue to have a bad name.

I can't help but see Sam's face in every window or every visible TV screen in the houses I pass.

I think I should tell you what happened a few weeks ago and you might understand why I am caught up thinking about Sam recently.

I was invited to the house party in his basement again that I told you about in one of my first letters. I'm not sure you still have it or remember it but I really hope you do, because it would be nice to know that you still think about me because I still think about you. I did the silly code knock that Patrick taught me and I was allowed to enter. Brad was there, sitting next to Patrick. I don't know if they had been arguing but both of their eyes were red and I caught Patrick wiping his eyes a few times. Patrick has always been the emotional one in their relationship.

I made my way to the chair in the corner of the room. I didn't know anybody much, apart from Sam, Patrick and Brad. I hadn't seen much of the other's recently and I don't really think that they cared so I won't mention them anymore. I'd been in constant contact with all three of them and I'd really grown on Brad. I hope I'm not gay, though. Brad is really nice to me but Sam is so beautiful that I don't think I could be attracted to any other male or female in the world, despite my sexuality.

I surveyed the room. I was hoping I would see one of the others that I hadn't spoken to but I didn't. Well, I did, but they didn't seem to notice me so I stayed quiet. I didn't really want to cause a fuss over nothing. I could have walked up to them and started a full blown conversation, pretending we were all adults meeting up at a reunion again or something, but I knew Sam and Patrick were the only ones who didn't find it weird that I still played make-believe. Brad still wasn't used to it so I never made up things when he was there.

The room was small but comforting. The floor was covered in soft drinks and alcohol, though, and it made the soles of my shoes all sticky. I didn't know how I was going to explain that to mom when I got back home. I was busy thinking about my mom when I caught somebody out of the corner of my eye. It was Sam. I hadn't seen her for a while, despite being able to keep in contact with her. I really missed her face and her personality and warm hugs and warm eyes and warm gestures. I really wanted to run up to her, tap her on the back and give her the biggest kiss on the cheek. She deserved it; she's beautiful. I didn't, though, and sat back on my chair. I missed her so much that even my penis couldn't control itself and it happened. I was sitting on a chair, in the corner of the room, staring at Sam (in awe of her beauty) with a rather noticeable bulge in my pants that I tried to hide. Even my erection seemed to be pointing to Sam and this embarrassed me because, like I said, she doesn't want me thinking of her like that. I wasn't sure whether I made a yelp or any sound at all, but I soon realised that everybody in the room was looking me up at down, pausing at my crotch, then continuing. Then they all turned to look at Sam, who had a big smile on her face. Her hair was tied up in a pretty braid and she had a turquoise flower in it. I didn't know what sort of flower it was though. I didn't think to ask at the moment.

Sam's face lit up when she saw me, which was to my relief. I loved her smile. It wasn't like a normal smile, it spread across her face. You could tell she was smiling just from looking at her eyes, or cheeks, or nose, all individually.

She walked towards me and held out her hand. She shouted, for everybody in the room to hear, 'Charlie, I've missed my little buddy!' I was honoured that she wanted everybody to know that she had missed me and couldn't help but blush at the fact that she had called me her 'little buddy.' I smiled back at her and took her hand, which she tugged towards her, pulling me into a hug. I wasn't exactly little anymore. I had grown considerably. I was average height, really, about 5 foot 9. Sam was 5 foot 6, so she was smaller than me. It didn't really make sense that I was her 'little buddy' apart from the fact that she is older than me, but that didn't really matter because Sam was hugging me in front of everybody at Brad's party and I was next to her and she wasn't ashamed.

I really wanted to cry because she was holding me and I was holding her and it was like where we left off before she went away to Penn State but I didn't because I thought her hair looked too pretty to cry into and she might get mad.

I closed my eyes and breathed in her sweet scent. She smelt so womanly and that definitely didn't help my erection. Thankfully, she laughed as she felt it press against her as we hugged, though it made my face flush a bright red. I can tell when I blush because I start to feel woozy and hot and I was definitely feeling like that now.

'Don't worry about it, Charlie,' she whispered. 'It happens to everybody. In fact, it's cute that you still have feelings for me. I've been away a long time and I've missed you, you know?' I did know. I knew very well. I dared say it.

'Shall we go somewhere – alone?' I panicked, saying 'I didn't mean that, Sam, I meant to talk and discuss our lives like mature adults.' I made a gesture with something that looked like a wine glass, pretending that we were about thirty years old and having a well-earned drink after work. 'It's quite loud in here –' it wasn't loud at all and she knew that and I knew that so I don't know why I said it.

'I know, Charlie. Let's go to the study upstairs. We can talk there.' She picked up a can of alcohol. I'd never seen that brand before but I didn't object when she offered me one, too.

I followed Sam's footsteps up the staircase and down the hallway, passing rooms with closed doors that probably had a lot of love-making going on behind them. I still couldn't help thinking about Sam like that, though. I was glad she didn't have telepathic powers because she'd know that I was thinking about her like that and I don't want her to know. I learnt the term 'telepathic' from a book Bill gave to me. It's now my favourite book. I'm a quarter of the way through my third time of reading it. I like to re-read books so I make sure that I've formed a logical opinion on the characters and plot because I'd hate to be criticised by a reader if they hadn't given their opinions real thought if I was an author.

We got to the study and I entered and waited for Sam. Sam said she needed the toilet so I took a seat next to the computer station. The seat was plush and soft – it wasn't like the seat I'd chosen in the corner of the basement. The study was quite small, with a dartboard and a computer chair. There was one of those silly hats with the cans and the straws. There were a few boxes of tissues flung onto the floor with their contents spewed out next to them. I wondered if the whole family used this room or if it was a dad's get-away room or if each item in this room meant something or held a memory.

I waited for Sam to get back. When she did, I asked to kiss her. She didn't reply but she kissed me instead. I was taken by surprise and it made me want to cry because I love her and everything about her. I didn't cry, though. I really wanted to converse with her and watch her lips talk about nothing at all while I nodded and made sure she knew I wanted to listen to her. I wanted to ask about her pickup truck and how Brad and Patrick were and how she got her hair to stay so neat with clips in and where she got her flower from. I didn't get that but got something much better.

I didn't really mean to say that. I didn't mean that I didn't appreciate her speeches about recycling or women's rights or Rocky Horror because I do and I would listen to her all day if she let me.

It was only the second time I'd kissed her and it felt like a million orgasms in one. I really wanted to enjoy the kiss and take it for what it was, but I couldn't help thinking about where we had left off the last time I wrote to you. I think she thought about it too but she didn't say anything. I wanted her to, though.

After she'd kissed me, we cuddled on the sofa that was covered by patchwork quilts. It was really quite cosy and I could have sat there with my arm around her petite shoulders for the rest of my life, but she said she had to go. I wished she hadn't and a part of me wondered if she really had to go or if she was making an excuse. I scolded myself for thinking so bad of Sam, though, because I know she wouldn't lie to me.

So, friend, I have spent the last few weeks thinking about Sam constantly. I think I should tell her how I really feel now. I've grown up quite a lot since we first met and I first told her about my intimate dream. If I'm honest with you, I've had more of those dreams recently. I woke up in the middle of a few and found that my bed was wet. I didn't think I had wet the bed so I asked Patrick about it and he said that they were something called 'wet dreams.' I didn't want to pry any more because Patrick seemed distracted when I asked him so I researched it and found out that I still really do have those sorts of feelings for Sam. I've never reached an orgasm over any other man or woman, not even a celebrity or Brad, if I have those sorts of feelings for him. If I said I had in the past, I was secretly thinking about Sam even though she told me not to. I don't want to disobey her but I hope she realises soon that I have these feelings for her because masturbating without feeling guilty would be really nice I think.

I'm going to leave it there and see where this goes. I don't want to waste your time talking about my feelings about Sam. You probably have your own things to worry about. Maybe you've got a Sam and a Patrick and a Brad and maybe you're caught up over your Sam too and I wouldn't want to put words and feelings into your mouth.

I hope you'll hear from me soon.

Love always,

Charlie.

P.S Bill said that I've become a lot more emotional and I'm not sure if that's a good thing because he hesitated before saying it. I wish I wasn't so emotional, sometimes I think that it makes me think too much.


End file.
